


At Your Door Heart in Hand

by Muccamukk



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Exhaustion, M/M, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Pre-Canon, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: When Michael arrives on Babylon 5, he has no idea what to expect, least of all from Jeff.





	At Your Door Heart in Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimm/gifts).



> Set seven months before "The Gathering," as Babylon 5 becomes operational.

There were times that paranoia paid off—the majority of them, in Michael's opinion—but long-haul flights on a budget weren't one of them. Michael couldn't seem to sleep next to strangers any more, even on a sparsely populated transport, and therefore hadn't done more than drift in the two days since he'd left Mars.

If he ever made it big, Michael promised himself no more economy class. Maybe he'd even get one of those private yachts, with a stateroom the size of his old apartment.

Sleep deprivation was giving him delusions, Michael decided. He hiked his duffle bag up onto his shoulder and trudged towards the debarkation area. Thirty-four years old, and everything he owned fit in these two bags, plus a box he'd left in storage. Starting all over again, take the sixth—and if he were honest, take the last. He shouldn't even have had this many chances, wouldn't have if it weren't for Jeff seeing God knows what in him.

Jeff, who was there to meet Michael at security, who, on second glance, appeared to also be running security, with no grey uniforms in sight. Babylon 5's main passenger waiting lounge didn't have chairs yet, and was full of construction crew sitting on their gear bags. The transport's outbound run would be packed.

Michael fell to the back of the line, which was only five people long anyway. He got a grin and a handshake when Jeff spotted him.

"Wasn't expecting you yet," Jeff said as he swiped Michael's identity card. "I don't even have a staff. It's all contractors."

"Yeah, well, figured I'd get here before you came to you senses," Michael told him. That was half of it; the other half was that his lease had run out on Mars. "Can't get rid of me now."

"We'll see," Jeff said, but he was smiling, and as he gave Michael his card back, his fingers brushed against the back of Michael's hand. "Come on, give me one of those"—he gestured at Michael's bags—"and I'll give you the nickel tour."

On a good day, the idea trailing after Jeff and listening to him describe every inch of his five-mile-long new toy would sound pretty good to Michael. This wasn't really a good day so far. Jeff's hand on Michael's had been the highlight of it. "Can you give me a tour of my rack?" Michael asked. 

Jeff frowned, and it occurred to Michael that it wasn't hard to read a double meaning into that question. Not that he'd never had a tour of Jeff's bed before, but Michael had assumed that was off now that Jeff was his CO. He hadn't want to start a new assignment by implying that he was expecting to continue to sleep his way to the top. Or to the middle. Or anywhere.

Not that he would turn down any offer Jeff might make, but Michael figured he should count his lucky stars that he had a job at all.

Michael rubbed his eyes, which made his bag slip off his shoulder again. He let it hit the deck. "I'm about pass out in front of you," he admitted.

"There's a problem with your quarters," Jeff said. "I tried to get the computer to assign them to you, but it said that if you weren't on staff, you didn't get quarters. I tried to put you on staff, and the damn thing said it needed authorisation from the advisory council. That AI's got quite a mouth on it."

"At this point, I'd sleep on the floor," Michael said. As long as the floor had a door he could lock between him and other people, anyway.

"I can do you better than that." Jeff swung Michael's duffle to his shoulder and headed off into a labyrinth of corridors wafting with fresh paint and burnt metal—new space station small.

Michael followed, eyes fixed on Jeff's broad shoulders and the way the new Earth Force uniform showed off his ass. "How's that?"

"You can bunk with me," Jeff said. "We'll get your quarters settled in the morning."

"I'll take your couch over a hallway," Michael said, still trying to recover from the tour comment.

"You always did know how to compliment a guy." Jeff turned and smiled, white teeth flashing briefly, not worried about walking half backwards in an empty hall way.

It was hard to imagine what this place would look like filled with its projected quarter million population. Michael could catch a glimmer of it in Jeff's enthusiasm for the place, but to him it looked like a ghost station. Jeff kept talking, but Michael mostly tuned him out, listening to his baritone rambling and catching the odd smile. His feet moved out of habit, and he thought of being a ground pounder, and following his LT out of reflex when he was too tired to think.

Besides, if Michael started thinking about being in charge of security for a place this big, he'd work himself into the kind of panic he'd faced down when Jeff had first offered him the job. That was the sort of thing that then made think about wagons and falls, and how the combining the two wouldn't be so bad.

The lift jarred and stuck, and Jeff steadied Michael's elbow, then didn't let go until they were at the door to his quarters.

"I only got here two days ago myself," Jeff said, as if Michael cared that half his stuff was in boxes. At least Jeff had stuff.

"Take me to your couch," Michael said, but Jeff walked through the living area and into his bedroom and dropped Michael's bag there. Michael followed as though tied on a string.

"I'm on duty until sixteen hundred." Jeff turned and gestured to take in the whole room and Michael too. "Why not save your back and take the bed?"

Michael's fogged brain couldn't think of any obvious reason that was a terrible idea, so he dropped his second bag and started unbuttoning his shirt. "Kick me out when you want it," he said. "Bet a man in your esteemed position hasn't hot bunked for a while."

"Not since I saw you," Jeff told him, which hit hard enough to keep Michael from replying. He bent to pull his socks off, hoping that hid his expression.

A few seconds later, Michael heard the door close. He stripped to his shorts and crawled under the covers. Jeff might have only been there a few days, but the pillow already smelled like his shampoo, and Michael inhaled deeply and then fell dead asleep.

Later, Michael snapped awake at the door opening again.

"It's just me, Mike," Jeff said from the living area.

Michael muttered something into the pillow. He knew that he should get up and give Jeff the bed, but profoundly didn't want to move. It was soft, and he was warm, and six hours of sleep didn't make up for two days awake. His eyes still ached, and he had to wonder if the station's rotation was set right, because his whole body felt too heavy.

Still, Michael didn't want to come onto another man's space station and steal his bed first thing he got there. He lifted his head enough to say, "I'll take the couch."

"I don't mind sharing the bed."

Michael looked up and saw Jeff standing in the doorway, his uniform jacket gone and the top button of his shirt undone. His hair was tousled from where Jeff had run his hands through it, which just made Michael want to run his own hands through it.

When Michael didn't answer—largely due to trying to get his brain back on track and think it through for damn once before he committed to something stupid—Jeff nodded slightly and said, "Don't worry about getting up. I'll take the couch."

That was enough to make Michael sit up and say, "I'm not kicking you out, Jeff."

"Then what are you doing?"

"When have I ever known that?" Michael said, trying to work that out himself. His thoughts felt slow. "Didn't figure we were still on, I guess, now that you're..."

Now that Jeff had finally made good on all his potential and had found something to take that goddamned lost look out of his eyes. On Mars, they'd been a distraction to each other when they'd both wanted to forget where they were, but a distraction was the last thing Jeff needed on Babylon 5.

"Haven't you heard?" Jeff asked. "Computer says you're not my security chief until I get approval."

Michael should have taken that—a night of whatever Jeff offered him—but he was awake enough now to be the sort of pushy son of a bitch who always sank his own chances. "How about after?"

"We'll work something out," Jeff told him. That confidence was new too, or so Michael thought until he saw the way Jeff's finger's drummed on the door frame, and how his eyes were looking at Michael's bare chest, not at his face. Not confidence then, a cover.

"Okay," Michael said, and flopped back down onto the bed. Working it out later sounded like a solid plan to him right now. He closed his eyes and listened to Jeff's clothes rustle as he undressed.

The bed shifted, and Michael looked again just in time to catch Jeff coming in for a kiss. Michael tried to turn into it, which threw Jeff off, and it landed awkwardly on the corner of Michael's jaw.

"Smooth," Michael said, and Jeff laughed and flopped down next to him.

They lay shoulder to shoulder for a few minutes—Michael listening to Jeff's soft breathing, Jeff's thoughts wherever it was that they went at moments like this—then without saying anything, Jeff rolled so that his back was to Michael.

Michael rolled too and spooned up behind Jeff and wrapped his arm around Jeff's waist. It felt so good to have him in his arms again, after so many months. It made it seem, for that moment at least, like things might just work out after all—like chance number six would be the last one Michael needed. Michael buried his nose in Jeff's hair and kissed top knot of his spine.

"Go to sleep, Michael," Jeff muttered.

"Okay, okay," Michael said, though he regretted that neither of them seemed to have the energy to get up to anything.

In the morning, they could take their time waking each other up. Then have breakfast and fight with the mouthy AI to get Michael registered in the system.

It occurred to Michael—as he drifted off to the sound of Jeff's easy breathing and the scent of his shampoo—that it wouldn't be such a bad thing if he couldn't find his own quarters for a couple of days.


End file.
